


If they were lucky

by 1birb



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Character Death, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1birb/pseuds/1birb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of his children and being ousted from the Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister does not have much left. He thought he had found happiness again with someone worth following into battle for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lie

"You're going to make it. Just stay awake.” Jon trembled as he draped an arm across Jaime’s chest, hauling the upper half of his body onto his lap. Kneeling in the snow, sitting back on his heels, Jon supported Jaime’s back while his head rested in the crook of Jon’s left arm. 

Jon tried to mask his fear as he eyed up the wound on Jaime’s abdomen, placing a hand over it as if that would somehow stop the bleeding. He wanted to sob as blood pumped through his fingers. If only Jaime could stop breathing, or if his heart could stop beating, maybe he wouldn’t be losing _so much_ blood. Maybe there would be a chance to save him. 

When Jon felt something wet on his knees, that’s when he began to truly lose control of his emotions. His mouth contorted to reflect the hopelessness he felt upon realizing that Jaime had been run clean through, and tears that were forming in his eyes then began to fall. “O-oh…oh no…” Jon started to tremble from shock as he drew Jaime closer. “Please, Jaime, stay awake,” he pleaded.

Jaime glanced up at his lover, his expression _too_ calm. He had known the second he fell to the ground that he was a dead man. Despite his formal cruelty towards Jon, he had no room in his heart to tell him that he couldn’t feel anything from the waist down. The hit must have damaged his spine. A part of him wanted to laugh—perhaps he deserved this for what he had done to Bran so many years ago, but he couldn’t. Not with Jon crying over him and death soon approaching.

“Jon, you need to leave me. There’s a war going on, you can’t stay. It’d be idiotic to stay,” Jaime tried to sound as harsh and condescending as he could. Somewhere he believed that if he could anger Jon into abandoning him there, maybe this all wouldn’t be so bad him later. 

Naturally, it wouldn’t work. Jon only clung to him tighter, looking up for a moment as if to challenge or curse the gods for what they had done. To lose Ygritte in his arms, and now Jaime too—it wasn’t fair, any of it. “I’m not leaving you. They can capture me, kill me, do whatever they’d like to me—I won’t leave you.” 

“Damn it, Jon,” Jaime hissed, wincing as he felt the pain coursing through his gut. He glanced down, shocked at the amount of blood that was pumping from the wound and into the snow around them—even Jon’s hand was soaked from trying to slow it. Jaime was never one to get queasy, but he felt himself grow faint from the loss of blood. He knew it wouldn’t be long now. What did they have? Minutes, maybe, if they were lucky.

Jon could see Jaime’s eyes starting to glaze over. He had seen the same look on Ygritte’s face when he held her, dying, so many years ago. “Please, Jaime, p-please, stay awake,” Jon stuttered, panicking now. “Don’t leave me alone, please,” he begged, talking softly as he leaned down so he could press his forehead against his lover’s.

Jaime felt a few tears drop onto his own face as Jon pulled him closer. Any energy he had to fight or move was being drained with each pump of his heart. Jaime never thought it would end like this, or so soon. Jon had brought new happiness into his life after the death of his children. Jon had given him a new reason to wake up each day, and he was worth following into war for. Each day he woke up in Jon’s bed with the younger man sleeping peacefully next to him, was a good day to Jaime. “You’re young, Jon, you’ll be alright—promise me you’ll be alright?”

  
“What?” Jon lifted his head a little, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I…I can’t promise that, Jaime, I can’t.”   
  
Jaime shook his head weakly, letting his eyes fall closed as his breathing began to grow ragged. “You have to. That’s all I want, Jon, I swear. That’s all I want.” He failed to mention how he wanted to grow old with Jon, how he thought he would have. Jon didn’t deserve to feel worse about this.  
  
“Jaime,” Jon began, shaking as he reached up to brush Jaime’s hair from his eyes, “Open your eyes. You need to stay awake. There will be help coming soon, please, look at me. Please!”

There were screams in the distance as the fighting continued. Jaime struggled to open his eyes again, knowing this would be the last time he would look at his lover’s face. “Promise me, Jon, promise me you’ll find—“ Jaime’s eyes widened as he coughed, spitting up blood.

Jon was quick to wipe the blood away from Jaime’s mouth, wanting him to look as regal as he always did, even in death. He couldn’t deny Jaime such a small dying wish and so he nodded, “I’ll be okay, for you, I promise.”

Jaime managed to smile just a little as he gazed up at Jon, trying to soak in every detail of his face one last time as he felt himself growing colder. Everything, including his breathing, was slowing down and his vision began to blur. As Jon leaned down to press his lips against Jaime’s one last time, they both knew that Jon had lied.


	2. The Kingslayer and the Bastard Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel written by raeelisa, and very lightly edited by I.

Jon was shaking as he looked down at Jaime's rapidly cooling body. His lover’s blood soaked his clothes, coated his skin. It was still flowing sluggishly from the wound Jon had his hand over, trying desperately to fix damage that was clearly irreversible. Jon lifted his hand from the wound and gently ran his thumb along his lover's cheekbone, leaving a smear of blood behind that caused Jon's tears to fall faster.

"Jaime," he murmured brokenly as he put his forehead to the older man's chest.

"Please don't, don't go. I can't do this alone, I can't, please open your eyes, say something, just please—don't leave me." Sobs wracked his body and he held Jaime closer, not letting go, never letting go.

Jon heard the footsteps. He heard, but he didn't care. He wasn't leaving, he wasn't going to let Jamie's body freeze and be forgotten, left as just another casualty of war. He would stay, even though the crunch of boots in the snow was getting closer and he knew there was nothing protecting him if this intruder was an enemy.

When the sword pierced his back, he felt it. He looked down, watching as the blade was ripped out. The tip disappeared back into his chest and was tugged free with a splatter of blood on snow. He felt it, and he didn't care.

You promised him, a voice in his head reminded him.

You promised him you'd be okay. Jon smiled sadly.

"You…" He gasped, swaying a bit.

"You once told me, Jaime Lannister, th-that promises were meant to be broken." Jon's arms spasmed and his lover's limp body fell from his lap.

"You told me that you…that you would never break a promise t-to me, and yet you promised…" Swaying again, Jon fell so that he lay beside the man he loved. 

"You promised me that you—you wouldn't leave me this soon. You promised me, Jaime, and you—" Jon reached for Jamie's left hand and found it cold, "—you broke that promise." Sobbing again, he dragged himself closer to Jaime so he was able to lay his head on his lover's chest.

"But it's alright," Jon murmured as the edges of his vision started going black.

"I—I forgive you." His body convulsed as the pain hit, and oh gods, gone was the blissful numbness, it was all pain. All Jon knew in that moment was that he didn't have long. His heart was desperately trying to keep him alive when the rest of him had already given up, beating rapidly against his ribs as if it were a bird trying to escape a cage.

The tears weren't stopping. They wouldn't stop. Jaime would die dignified, and he'd die curled up to Jaime's side, soaking his chest with tears. They'd sing songs about them. The Kingslayer and the bastard boy, together both in life and in death. His eyes slid closed.

"I love you," he whispered, but the words fell on deaf ears, and Jon knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> End me! c:


End file.
